Affettuosamente
by eridani
Summary: PostAotC PreRotS. In a rare free moment Anakin and Padme enjoy some brief time together before the world prepares to tear them apart again. Some actual discourse and angsting, but mostly AP mush. COMPLETE
1. Default Chapter

A/N: Originally, all the exposition for this piece was included in the story- but it just wasn't working, so it's going here instead.

Takes place during sometime during the two years between AotC and RotS. Padme and Anakin have managed to organise a short secretive rendezvous, and the story opens with Padme waiting for Anakin to arrive at the Lake House on Naboo.

Despite the fact that I do beta in my spare time, I can't bare to edit and analyse my own writing- it really pains me- so hopefully this wont be too error ridden.

A/P mush is new dangerous new territory for me, so be warned. And seeing as how this is all rather experimental, feedback would be ever so greatly appreciated!

**Affetuosamente**

**_- tenderly, with feeling and emotion._**

**i**

The peach sunlight sent twisted shadows skittering across the balcony, passing between the intricately carved balustrade before landing elongated and stretched on the flagstone patio. The sun momentarily seemed to balance perfectly in the cradle of the mountains far in the distance but slowly sank below the horizon, gradually darkening from peachy pink to a fiery orange red.

Vermillion tinting cast a warm glow over the woman's face as she squinted out over the too bright waters, eyes nearly watering as she stood watching the ripples that reflected the setting sun. She was of a diminutive stature, a fact emphasised by her posture- legs lightly crossed at the knees; weight on her forearms, which pressed into the stone; bent at the hips- as she leant against balustrade, the drape of soft material folding around her.

She looked, and felt, small in comparison to her surrounds. The wide lake and enclosing mountains made her acutely aware of her slight size. At sunset the world looked so much more enticing- felt so much bigger, broader than just herself- her own window of existence seemed incomparable to the grandeur and sheer enormity of the sight before her. Instead of being awed and disheartened by this awareness, she felt a degree of relief. The existence of sentient life, civilisations, the Republic itself would rise and fall, as those sorts of things do, but the natural beauty of this place would be far longer lived. After the masterfully crafted stonework that supported her weight had crumbled, reduced to no more than dust and fine grains of sand, the lake would still be there, reflecting the ginger red light from the sun just as it did now, with the same, if perhaps a little more weathered, mountains looking on.

She was tempted to fall into sentimentality, almost imagining that this place of such natural beauty would somehow retain some mark of her and lover's time here. That somehow their memory would leave an imprint in the very bedrock beneath her. But she hurriedly clamped down on such ridiculous notions.

One day, eventually, they would both be gone, as would the histories that might have remembered them, their descendants- if there were any- having moved one. The thought bothered her, irritated her consciousness slightly, and she consoled herself with the knowledge that even if their presence was wiped from the universe, an element of continuity remained in the roots of the mountains around her. Even if she couldn't go on indefinitely, they would.

She was still admiring the view when she heard soft footsteps behind her. They were so light she was sure that their owner was attempting to approach unnoticed; occasionally the scuff of a boot sole on stone, or the sound of a tiny pebble rolling away giving them away. It wasn't long before the very nearly silent path ended less than a metre behind her.

Knowing full well the identity of the figure at her rear she cast her eyes downwards at her hands and, seeing the ring that she was rarely able to wear freely, allowed a small smiled to creep across her features- she would let him think he had gone unheard.

He stepped up behind her, close but not quite touching, placing an arm on either side of her frame and rested his weight on his wrists. For a moment she permitted herself to be distracted by his hands resting on the balustrade- girlishly admiring their shape, and cataloguing the scars and calluses. Coquettishly she considered just how much she appreciated those hands before a soft voice at her ear brought her out of her thoughts.

'Afternoon, love.'

The greeting was spoken quietly, further muffled by her hair and it registered as only a whisper to her hearing, but nevertheless, she caught all of the meaning wrapped up in the two words. The protection offered, the care, the devotion, the happiness, the innuendo- all of it- and was intensely grateful. Wishing to reciprocate, she angled her chin sideways towards the origin of the voice, offering him a view of her profile, and directed her words behind her.

'I was wondering when you'd arrive.'

The slight movement against her back and the warm rush of air at her neck told her he evidently found something mildly humorous.

'Sorry to keep you waiting, milady'

This time she laughed softly, 'So you should be.'

His hands moved from the railing beside her, finding a more comfortable position resting against her sides, index fingers making small stroking motions in the concave dip just above her hip bones. Again she was reminded how much she valued them.

The thin pocket of air that separated her back from his front frustrated her, and she reached a foot behind her to tug his ankle with the tops of her bare toes, effectively closing the gap without ever having once glanced over her shoulder. He leant over her so that his chin lay against the wing of her collarbone, strands of blonde hair getting lost amongst her longer brunette waves. Without a conscious thought she turned to press her cheek to his and revelled in the closeness that had been withheld from her for months by the rest of the world.

'I've missed you, Anakin' she stated simply, her mood turning serious.

'As I have missed you,' came the equally simple answer.

She nodded slightly, silently acknowledging that neither would talk about troubles experienced away form each other's company. The short infrequent times they were able to escape together were always unsullied by talk and thoughts of the outside world and the reality they knew they would have to return to. This time was their time and their time alone, and nothing was permitted to intrude.

The hands at her sides pressed her hips reassuringly, reaffirming the physical closeness they shared. She turned to offer him an encouraging smile, feeling the resistance in her spine and hearing her back crack. Instead of being greeted by his own smile, she noted a quick frown cross his features. She shrugged off the discomfort in her back, her smile transforming into a wry grin.

'Sore back?'

'A little I guess… it's just stress.'

She would never let him know just how much stress the Senate caused her, or how she worried while he was gone, just as he would never tell her about his experiences at the front. They all fell into the category of subject matter not to be discussed in their time together. Sometimes it occurred to her that she and her husband neglected to communicate about the simplest things, and occasionally it bothered her.

When they were together, the first evening after his return from assignment would always play out the same- in the early hours of the morning they would lie awake in the semi-dark, not speaking, while she took note of every new scar gained during his absence. She would trace them with slowly dragging fingertips, ghost over any that were too fresh for such treatment and remain silent, never once asking how he had received any of them. Just as she knew he wouldn't waste time inquiring about the source of her stresses or stiff back. Such questioning went against the unwritten laws of their relationship.

The loss of contact between his hands and her hips pulled her out of her reverie, and she began to turn to face him. Her movement was met with opposition however, as he grasped her shoulders and set her facing squarely ahead. Confusion blurred her thoughts until the grip on her shoulders began to change, thumbs kneading in small circles across the tense muscle. Blissfully she leant back into the pressure on her back, too preoccupied to express her gratitude.

He worked his way down her back, thumbs pushing against the stiff muscles that ran the length of her spine; fingers pressed into her sides give him leverage. The closer he came to her lower back the more self defeating the process became, though. His touch sent light shivers through her, doing anything but relaxing her. She was aware that his efforts were probably not the most therapeutic for her sore back, but let him continue anyway, simply deriving more pleasure from the feel of his hands on her than anything else. She could always see a professional- one that didn't have quite the same effect on her as her husband did.

Her breathing gave her away to him first. The regular deep breathing pattern she had started with had given way to soft uneven inhalations that she held caught in her throat. She was no longer breathing through her nose; instead he could hear the air unsteadily flowing through a tiny gap between her lips and a sense of accomplishment and masculine egotistical pride briefly surfaced with the knowing smirk that settled on his lips. That same pride was probably the reason he felt the need rise up in him to see the ecstatic expression he was sure graced her features.

Gently, she felt herself being turned and inwardly lamented the ending of her husband's ministrations, before becoming aware of the fact she was being picked up and placed on the balustrade. She opened her eyes to find herself almost eye to eye with her considerably taller husband and enjoyed the more equal height she now held.

Her hands went up to his shoulders, fingers entwining themselves in the ends of his hair, while her knees seemed to spread of their own volition, allowing him to step up flush against her. She could clearly read the intention in his eyes and chose to take the initiative and lightly brushed her lips against his as her eyelids fluttered shut. Somewhat mischievously, she pulled back a little, before the kiss deepened, wondering if he would follow. The challenge was zealously taken up, as Anakin leaned into her and placed a more open-mouthed kiss against her bottom lip. She chose to continue her game, altering the angle of her head and instead placing her kisses at the corner of his mouth, never quite letting his reach their intended target.

'Padmé…' Her name was drawn out, murmured against her lower cheek, and she could here the edge of impatience it held.

'Yes, love?' The two words were spoken innocently, separated by the chaste kisses designed specifically to get such a reaction from him. She tried to keep the laughter out of her voice as she silently congratulated herself.

'Fine- you want to play it that way?' She couldn't quite place the tone of his voice- somewhere between frustration and playfulness- and wondered what exactly he had in mind.

She received an answer as he diverted his attentions down, avoiding her mouth and instead focusing them on her neck. Her game plan flew from her mind the moment he found the hollow under her jaw line, just where it met her neck. Any hope she might have had of continuing her teasing was reduced to the sensation of his light sucking and the graze of teeth every so often against her skin. The last coherent thought she managed to string together was that she would need to wear a high collared dress when she returned to Coruscant.

Her hands dropped from his shoulders, relocating themselves underneath the heavy robes he wore. Basic instinct informed her that she ought to be touching skin, not layers of clothing and her fingers wormed their way through to what skin she could by undoing his collar. Not satisfied, she worked haphazardly to untie, unbutton and unzip her way through multiple layers to his belt, until what she deemed a sufficient amount of skin was available to her. Her fingertips delicately brushed across the bottom of his ribcage, catching him by surprise- stomach muscles suddenly tightening enticingly. The movement of his mouth against her jaw suddenly ceased, a fact which disappointed her greatly, and he straightened to look her in the eye.

What she saw overwhelmed her, as it always did.

His eyes captured her attention at first. They were intently focused on her, though whether out of admiration, love, or sheer physical appreciation she wasn't sure. There was a time when she had felt like a butterfly specimen pinned to a board under that gaze, but now all she knew was that she was wanted and she loved that he could stir up reactions in her with merely a look.

She dragged her vision downwards to his chest, determined to resume her previous activities, but the sight of his mouth momentarily put a stop to coherent thought. His lips were slightly swollen from his labours, a little redder than usual, and she wondered flippantly what her neck looked like. Captivated, she leaned into to him, intending to finally oblige him with a proper kiss, only to be thwarted as he turned his cheek to her. She drew back with narrowed eyes, annoyed that he had turned her own game against her.

At the sight of her expression, he laughed quietly, the low rumble starting beneath her fingers pressed against his chest and finishing with the soft rush of air on her face.

'I love you, ' he spoke, the words tinged with suppressed amusement.

'I don't,' she replied with mock seriousness, almost pouting.

The only answer she received was the small sceptical quirk of an eyebrow.

He moved to brush his lips across her forehead and lent over her shoulder to see how her dress undid. It had become a diversion to both of them to see how successfully he could remove her complicated gowns, but he was relieved to find that this time he was only faced with a row of fine seed buttons. Her nose pressed into the crook of his neck, breath fanning lightly on his skin, as he quietly went to work.

Peering over his shoulder, she could see their combined shadow cast across the flagstone paving, his silhouette almost completely obscuring her own. Her mind caught on all the metaphoric implications, her thoughts finding a million meanings in the insignificant imagery. For a moment she tensed, an indescribable and unjustified apprehension creeping at the edge of her awareness, but the feeling of fingers trailing across the top of her now bare back wiped her consciousness. She shut her eyes against the dark shadows and blood-red glow of the setting sun and concentrated solely on the sensations being stirred on her skin.

Her back was fully exposed by now, the dress only held up tentatively by the sleeves that were slowly being slid down her arms. A cool night breeze drifted past, reminding her of her surroundings- she was semi-undressed sitting on an open balcony, with other similarly open balconies facing across the lake. Her hand went up to hold the dress to her chest and she shivered involuntarily.

Concerned her husband looked up, 'Cold?'

'Well, we are outside-'

Taking the hint he pushed her sleeves back to their rightful place, while she hurriedly crossed his robe over him. She smiled and slid down from the balustrade; causing friction enough between them to make Anakin consider putting her straight back up on her perch and continue on regardless. With one hand pressed to her chest to ensure her dress wouldn't slide, she caught his wrist with the other, leisurely walking backwards into the house.

There is more written, but I'm not decided yet whether or not to go the whole nine yards and make this a M-rated story. Should I continue?

**Feedback would be fantastic. Thanks.**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you, for all of the positive reviews. Yes, you all got your wish- I took the plunge and wrote it with a M rating in mind.

Writing this chapter was an... interesting, enlightening? experience and I'm quite apprehensive about posting it. Apparently I'm more far more conservative than I had previously thought. I tried to do it tastefully and without resorting to cliches, but it's gotten to the point where I'm so nervous about it thatI can't objectively judge it. Anyway, set my mind at ease and read and review- constructive comments would be appreciated- I know this cannot possibly be close to perfect, so please, point out what's wrong.

At least this time, the chapter will be a little better edited, as I have actually forced myself to read right through it...cringe.

So, here goes nothing-

**Affetuosamente**

**ii**

Standing outside in the dying rays of the sun had been tolerably warm, but the stone villa was chilled. Anakin made a small gesture with his free hand, turning on the heat regulator and flicking on a light in the corner of the room.

As Padmé pulled him towards her, he heard her mumble into his shoulder.

'Show off'

He answered only by bringing her with him as he sat on the nearby lounge, positioning her neatly across his lap.

The seating arrangements gave her good access to the junction between his jaw and neck, just below his ear- a benefit she was eager to exploit. Brushing feather light kisses across the area, knowing he found it particularly sensitive, she grinned into his neck as she felt his hand tighten its grip on her knee. One arm was slung around his shoulder as she twirled sections of his hair around her fingers and the other hand pressed firmly against his rapidly rising and falling chest. She loved what she could do to him.

Perhaps sensing her smugness, Anakin took action of his own. The hand on her knee unhurriedly gathered up the long skirts that covered her legs and slid under them to make contact with her thigh. The muscle fluttered under his hand while she adjusted to the touch, enjoying the warmth of his hand as it moved upwards painstakingly slowly to her inner thigh. It was a cruel torture and she pulled away from the crook of his neck, choosing instead to watch him as he very deliberately teased her. Instinctively, her knees spread to allow him better access and her hips nudged forward ever so slightly in a vain attempt to increase the pressure between his hand and herself. She saw an arrogant smirk lift the corners of his mouth. In an effort demonstrate to him that he didn't hold all the cards she ground her rear hard into his lap and enjoyed the lapse in control that flashed across his face. She beamed angelically at him as his eyes flickered back open.

Finally showing a little gentlemanly complaisance, he pushed her backwards into the lounge cushions and stretched out alongside her, back pressed into the back of the chair, head propped up on his elbow, one hand still moving under her skirts. He leaned over for a kiss, tongue gently pushing for entrance to her mouth, as his fingers finally reach their goal. A reactionary noise came from the back of her throat- whether it was a moan or whimper she wasn't really sure- that sent shivers through her husband, as he not only heard it, but felt it through the kiss. She squirmed under the heated spread of warmth from between her legs and became uncomfortably aware of the numerous layers of clothing that separated them.

The first to go was the top of her dress- shrugging her arms out of the sleeves, the expensive material bunched at her waist and she arched her back to increase the contact between her own goose-bumped skin and his only partially bared chest. She tugged at his robes to little effect and was eventually forced to break the kiss and make him sit up. She watched through desire-hooded eyes as he moved to kneel between her legs, divesting himself of the encumbering uniform and robes. The half-light emphasised the play of skin across his fluidly moving muscles and she enjoyed the view, lip bitten in anticipation. His utility belt dropped to the floor, the omnipresent lightsabre following it. He leaned over her reclining figure, weight resting on one arm propped above her head, as he removed his pants. Her impatient feet assisted them down his legs and kicked them resolutely to one side.

Leaning up she whispered harshly against his ear.

'I want you.'

The three monosyllabic words undid him, unravelling the delicate threads of his self-control and he pushed the front of her skirts high up on her waist, not hesitating to waste time on pleasantries.

She locked her ankles behind his knees and slowly initiated a tentative rhythm between them, settling her hands against his sides. Her entire body felt over sensitised- a burning ache had spread across the surface of her skin, her breasts throbbed when they brushed against his chest and the upholstery of the lounge seemed to scrape on her back. She couldn't escape from the information overload that her brain struggled to process. Her hearing registered the unquiet noises of hips meeting hips, the hard breathing next to her ear and the small sounds occasionally issuing from her own lips. She closed her eyes against the looming ceiling overhead, and concentrated on the maintaining the increasingly frantic pace her husband was driving her to.

The regular air rushing past her neck and hair had degenerated to erratic exhalations that matched her own. She felt the beginnings of the end tingle through her nerves and permitted herself a small cry. Generally she was uncomfortable with making indiscreet vocalisations, but there always came a point where her pleasure-addled mind would forget its inhibitions to a degree. Above her, Anakin could tell she was close, and reached down to pinch the tiny bundle of nerves against her pubic bone. He grunted coarsely as he felt her tighten, her nails digging in to his sides, burying his face in her neck as he followed her example.

Opening her eyes, she pulled at his shoulders, encouraging him to take his weight off his arms and relax against her. His mass pushed her into the cushions and his nose pressed into the hairline at her neck. She treasured the almost-crushed sensation of having him so intimately close and gently rubbed her palms over the dual rows of half moon dents she had inflicted on his back, before drifting gradually into the realm of sleep.

She awoke much later, at some unknown hour of the night, to find herself in her bed and missing the warm body that should have been beside her. Listening, she quickly deduced that Anakin was not in the 'fresher, but moving around somewhere else in the main area of the house. The floor was cold under her bare feet and she pulled the top sheet from the bed to wrap herself in, draping the material toga-like. She shuffled sleepily out into the living area and spotted her husband leaning a hip against the food preparation bench, picking at sliced fruit in the dark. Without a word she moved into his arms, tucking her cool fingers inside the waistband of his pants for warmth.

The cold had raised tiny bumps across his arms and torso and she was momentarily reminded that he came from a hot planet. If she was feeling the cold, he most definitely was.

With her ear flush to his chest, she could hear the sounds of his chewing and she was comforted by the closeness. A piece of fruit was offered to her lips, which she gratefully took, savouring the tangy flavour. His left hand rubbed slow reassuring circles through the sheet on her back, while the mechanical gloved right hand hovered over the fruit platter, undecided over which to pick next.

Her gaze wandered across the open planned living area to the lounge that had played host to their 'activities' previously. He white dress lay in a ghostly heap on the floor, evidently having slipped from her waist when Anakin carried her to bed. It didn't matter- it was probably ruined anyway. She would need to get rid of it before she returned to Coruscant. Dormé would have a fit if she set sight on it, not to mention all the uncomfortable unspoken questions that might be raised by a dress in that state. She chuckled to herself, mentally picturing the possible situation.

'What?'

'Just thinking about how I'm going to get rid of my dress… Force help me, and you for that matter, if Dormé sees it.'

'Your wardrobe doesn't often come away unscathed from these encounters of ours does it?'

Another quiet laugh. 'Normally it's just buttons that need resewing- but that… I'd be willing to bet that dress is entirely unsalvageable.'

'You weren't too fond of it, I hope.'

'It was a worthwhile sacrifice. Besides, I have others.'

The last piece of fruit was floated up to her, and she rolled her eyes at him.

'Show off.'

He grinned, teeth showing in the silvered light of the stars and moon that poured through the window.

She swallowed the last of her midnight meal and turned to lead the way back to the bedroom. A surprised yelp issued from her when she suddenly found herself swept off her feet and carried over his shoulder, protesting vehemently and hammering on his back with her fists. He only laughed at her futile attempts and gracelessly dumped her on the bed. She loved these all too rare silly moments, when the rest of the world just seemed to recede- she wasn't tired or worried; he wasn't frustrated or brooding. Something else entirely came out in their foolish behaviour that almost allowed her believe they were a normal, madly in love young couple- not secretly married; not struggling to oppose insurmountable galactic forces; not required to hide from their friends and families.

She looked up at him and smiled, gesturing for him to join her in bed.

Her sheet had slipped and her hair was a tangled mess and Anakin thought she'd never looked more gorgeous.

'You're beautiful'

She considered serving him up a wisecrack about nobody looking good at such an unholy hour of the morning, but caught onto the earnestness conveyed in his words. She chose instead to take the compliment for what it was and after a moment of hesitation replied with a sincere 'Thank you'.

He passed out of her line of vision as he climbed behind her, lying with an arm open in invitation. She declined it though, instead, repositioning herself on top of him, straddled across his legs. He knew exactly what was coming- she had never once failed to conduct a physical examination of his new scars and battle wounds- and the scene played out with a haunting familiarity. Somehow, she managed to graze her fingertips over the raised scar on his shoulder without the slightest of sexual connotations. She found the healing scratches on his forearms and the shiny patch of new skin low on his side where he had been scorched by a wayward blaster bolt. Her unrestrained hair fell across her face, obscuring it in shadow and he wished he could see what she was thinking.

Every time they met up she took the time to take this inventory, always keeping her deep concern unvoiced, but he was equally worried about her. At least she could see his scars- they were visible physical reminders; he had no way of seeing her record of hardships. She carried her own burdens wrapped so tightly within herself that they were completely indiscernible. The helplessness of his situation frustrated him and a frown darkened his face before he thought to hold it back.

She caught sight of it and brushed both hands across his upper body conclusively and with finality, satisfied with her inspection. Crawling over his body, she placed a very deliberate kiss on his mouth that tried to communicate the sum total of all her care, worry and love. The responsive movement of his lips against her own was quietly passionate, uncomplicated by the threads of fervour and inflamed desire that usually ran through their kisses.

She took hold of his left hand in hers and moved to lie against him, turning onto her right side and encouraging him to follow her movement by tugging at his hand. He complied and pulled her back against his chest, nudging her legs apart so he could tangle his own between them. His arm snaked around her waist; the hand coming to rest unobtrusively cupping a breast.

She would awake the next morning to the feel of his fingers circling on her stomach.

The three days and two nights together would fly past all too quickly.

On the second night he would watch her fall asleep, her hand resting on top of his where it sat in the depression of her lower abdomen. Early in their last morning together she would cry discreetly as they made love. He would depart to meet up with the fleet, and she would be left to close down the lake house while the deep-seated loneliness and desolation settled in the pit of her stomach once again.

On their first night apart she would desperately wish for his comforting warmth and violently resent all that kept them apart. By the end of the week the acute pain of his absence would recede to a dull roar in the background and she would be able to concentrate on reality once again.

**Thanks for reading. So... What did you all think?**


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